Black and Blues
by SuperFYB
Summary: Series of one-shots set in a real world AU. It's game night with the guys until Church gets an unexpected phone call. Other shorts.
1. Black and Blues

**Black and Blues**

* * *

Why the hell do I hang out with these people? he asked himself as Caboose complained loudly about how stupid Tucker was.

He'd been invited to Tucker's place for a 'hang sesh,' whatever the hell that meant. Running into Caboose while picking up snacks, he didn't have the heart to tell him to f#*& off, so the imbecile tagged along with him. The exasperated look on Tucker's face when he opened the door and saw Caboose with him was enough to make it worth it though.

"If you don't want to be around him, then go somewhere else!" Church finally yelled after five minutes of obnoxious whining.

Caboose looked a little taken aback by Church's outburst. But his look of confusion was quickly replaced by his usual blank stare. "Tucker did it."

"Oh, would you shut up already?" Tucker griped. "You're giving me a migraine."

If he hadn't roomed with them in college, Church wondered if he would've ever been friends with them at all. Especially considering all the crap he put up with when they were around.

A retort from Caboose was interrupted by a knock at the door.

"'Bout time," he heard Tucker mutter as the dark-skinned man got up to get the door. "You're late," he scolded someone whom Church couldn't see.

A moment later a tall, blonde man entered the apartment, an open cardboard box in hands. "Why didn't you tell me Caboose was coming? I only brought three controllers!"

Church frowned. Of course Wash had been invited.

"Dude, it wasn't planned, trust me," Tucker replied, reentering the room after locking up. He gave Church another quick glare. "Plus, I think I have an extra laying around somewhere."

"Washingtub!" Caboose yelled, practically jumping out of his seat to wrap his arms around Wash.

"Hi, Caboose," Wash sighed, trying to shift the box to the side so he could pat Caboose on the back.

Church smirked at his awkwardness. "Hey, Wash."

"Church," the taller man replied in a rather less-than-excited manor.

"What'd you bring?" he asked, nodding to the box.

"Kirby Air Ride."

"Seriously?"

"Of course not! It's Halo. The hell'd you think I'd bring?"

"How the f#*& should I know," Church shrugged, "you're into all that hipster shit."

"In what way is Pokemon hipster?"

"It's meant for five year olds!"

"I was a nostalgic 90's kid! That makes it okay! And on another note, do you even know what 'hipster' means?"

"Oh my gosh, you are boring me to tears with this!" Tucker said, shoving Caboose away and grabbing the box out of Wash's arms.

"Like you're one to talk," Church chimed back. "Him and Caboose have been going at it ever since we got here," he explained to Wash.

"About that," Wash sat down next to Church, leaning in to keep the conversation on the down low, "What is he doing here, again?"

Church frowned at Wash's accusing gaze. "He ambushed me at the grocery store, okay? You know how it is: saying 'no' to Caboose is like kicking a puppy."

"What was he doing at the grocery store?"

"The f#*& would I know?…Oh shit. Caboose!"

"Church!"

"Why were you at the store earlier?"

"Oh, Sheila had to pick up some dog food for Freckles. He ate all of his."

"Did you tell her you were coming with me?"

"…No?"

"F#*&! She's gonna kill me," Church huffed, pulling out his phone.

While he warily tried to explain to Sheila where Caboose went, Wash went to help Tucker set up the X-Box.

"Which one did you bring?" Tucker asked, pulling out the controllers.

"3 and Reach."

"What about ODST?" he questioned, a little offended.

"The only reason we play that is for Firefight, and you went and invited Church, who is probably the single worst player ever. Of all time."

Tucker remained upset, but couldn't help but agree. "He couldn't hit the side of a barn from three feet away."

"Exactly. Let's just stick to multiplayer where his ass getting kicked actually helps us."

The doorbell rang.

"For f#*^'s sake, who else did you invite?" Church yelled from across the room.

Tucker pushed himself back to his feet and skipped over to the door. Swinging it open excitedly, he was greeted by—

"Donut!?"

"Oh, heeeyyy guys!"

Tucker snatched the pizzas away, looking Donut up and down. He wore a pink polo shirt tucked neatly into perfectly fitted jeans, a pristine pair of matching Vans hightops, and a black visor that only seemed to accentuate his impeccably sculpted golden locks. A little logo on his chest and visor advertised 'Sarge's Pizza.'

"What the hell are you doing delivering pizzas?" Tucker asked, still surprised.

"I finally got promoted from dishwasher!" Donut grinned proudly, showing off a set of disturbingly white teeth. Tucker could've sworn they were actually glistening.

"Good for you, man," Church, now off the phone with Sheila, replaced Tucker's spot at the door while the other man dropped the pizzas off on the table. "Grif and Simmons still working there?"

Donut sadly shook his head. "Nah, Grif was fired for calling a customer a really bad word, and Simmons got an engineering job at that paper factory downtown."

"No offense, dude," Tucker started as he returned to the door, money in hand, "But what are you still doing there? Sarge is freaking insane!"

Donut shrugged, "It pays the bills…well, some of them. But I've got that internship at Cece's still, and they'll be hiring new designers at the end of the year, so I've got my fingers crossed."

"I imagine there's not a lot of jobs out there looking for a fashion degree," Church thought aloud.

"It's a competitive industry," Donut agreed. "It just means I need to work harder to penetrate those barriers and push my way to the top!"

Tucker cringed.

Caboose had been in the bathroom, and only then saw Donut at the door. "Admiral Buttercrust!" he yelled excitedly, shoving Church and Tucker out of the way and wrapping his arms around the pink deliveryman. "What are you doing here?!" he asked, incredulously.

"Just delivering pizzas!" Donut answered just as excitedly while returning the embrace.

"I love pizza!"

"Would you look at that, all the Blues back together again!" Donut commented, smiling at the three.

Church shuddered, remembering all too well his color-coded college experience.

Tucker must have been feeling just as done with the conversation as he was, as he shoved the money into Donut's hand and said, "Well, it's been good seeing you, man. Catch you later?"

"Sure thing!" Donut happily responded, pocketing the cash.

Church dragged Caboose back inside while the larger man waved back to the pizza man. "Bye Donut!"

"See ya later, Caboose!"

And with that, Tucker shut the door. He and Church shared a sigh of relief. "You can come out now, Wash!"

Wash peeked his head out from Tucker's room. "Is he gone?" he asked nervously.

"Yes, he's gone."

Wash breathed out, rubbing the back of his neck.

"What's that about?" Church asked.

"He still feels bad for keying Donut's car."

"Dude, that was ages ago. Get the hell over it."

Wash frowned. "That was a bad time for me. I just don't like to be reminded of it."

Bad time for you my ass, Church thought. More like a bad time for everyone else.

Tucker set out plates as Church opened up the first box to inspect its contents. "F*&^ing supreme," he grumbled, closing the lid and setting it off to the side to reach the one below it. "Who likes Hawaiian?"

Wash pushed Church out of the way and took the entire pizza back to his spot on the couch.

Dreading what might await him in the final box, he lifted the covering slowly. Meatlovers with salami instead of pepperoni. "Aw man!" he grabbed Tucker by the neck and kissed the top of his head before pushing him away to focus on the masterpiece before him.

Tucker wiped off the spot as if Church had somehow given him cooties. "Yeah, yeah, I know I'm awesome." For once, Church didn't argue. He greedily grabbed a plate and loaded it with four slices.

Wash was already chowing down by the time the others reached the couch, Caboose sampling everyone else's pizzas.

"Why would anyone put pineapple on a pizza?" Church gave Wash a hard time.

"Says the man who doesn't eat pepperoni," Wash retorted.

"It's not that I won't eat it, salami's just a better pizza topping."

"According to whom? Because I think the rest of the world would disagree."

"Yeah, well the rest of the world's just a bunch of plebeian sheeple who don't know any better."

"What is a sheeple?" Caboose asked, confused.

"A mindless follower," Wash explained.

"Oh, like Tucker!"

"That's it!" Tucker exclaimed. "We're playing teams." He got scooted to the floor to put the disk in.

"What?! No!" Church whined, knowing they'd stick him with Caboose.

Even Caboose was upset by this. Church was easily the worst; they wouldn't stand a chance against Tucker and Wash combined. "That's not fair," he pouted.

"Yeah, well, I'm kinda tired of you insulting me all the time. So now me and Wash are gonna kick your ass in Halo."

After the first round ended 33 to -2, even Tucker started rethinking the teams. He and Wash might as well've been playing against thin air. Church was completely useless, and Caboose was notorious for killing his own teammates.

When the second game finished in similar fashion, Wash spoke up, "Even I have to admit, this is a little one-sided."

"Fine," Tucker sighed, "I'll play with Church." Wash was the best player in the room, but with Caboose's affinity for team kills, Tucker might just stand a chance. The third round ended in a slightly less skewed 15 to 9.

The night continued on that way, with frequent pizza and beer breaks. It was nearly one in the morning, and they were on their 12th round when Church felt his phone go off in his pocket. "Eh, shit. Sorry guys," he paused the game, causing a grumble from Tucker and a tired sigh from Wash. He checked the number and his face went pale.

Tucker knew that look. "Don't answer it, man," he warned.

Church just stared at the phone as it continued to vibrate. "I…" he hesitated before sliding his finger over the green. "Hello?"

His three companions watched on in silence. "Okay….Okay….Yeah, I'll be there," he spoke quietly into the receiver before hanging up. "I've gotta go," he told them.

Tucker followed him to the door. "Are you kidding me? You can't just leave!"

Church wordlessly grabbed his shoes and coat before calling over to Wash, "Can you take Caboose home?"

Wash frowned, but nodded.

"C'mon, dude, what could that bitch possibly need from you at this time of night?"

"Thanks for the pizza," he answered, exiting the apartment.

On his way down the stairs he called for a cab. He didn't feel drunk, but after four beers he knew he was a little too buzzed to drive. Five minutes later, the golden orange car arrived. "First and Border," he instructed the driver.

"Sure thing, boss," a lethargic voice replied.

"Wait, Grif?"

The driver turned around to see him. "Holy shit. Church?"

"What the hell are you doing driving a cab?!"

Grif shrugged, "Sarge finally fired me. 'Bout time, too. I've saved up enough stolen pepperoni to last me a lifetime."

Church shook his head, "I can't f#*&ing believe this. It's like there's no escaping these people."

"What was that?"

"Can you just drive? Thanks."

"Whatever."

After ten minutes of awkward silence, Grif spoke up. "So…you dating Tex again?"

"What?! Why would you even think that?"

"C'mon dude. First and Border? Everyone knows that's where your old apartment was. And last I heard she'd moved back in."

"Yeah, well, no. Tex and I are not dating," he grumbled, folding his arms over his chest and leaning moodily against the back seat. "I'm not stupid enough to try that out twice."

"Meh," Grif gave him the benefit of the doubt on that one, but if push came to shove, he wouldn't put it past him. Church always did seem to have a weak spot for bitches. Probably some weird fetish that had something to do with his sister. Speaking of, "You still living with Carolina?"

Church wondered how the former red seemed to know so much about his life, but knew better than to ask. "Yes, I'm still living with 'Lina. You and Simmons?"

"Sort of. I mean, technically he kicked me out, but he's still letting me stay until I figure out a better money situation. Honestly, it's the best thing that's ever happened to me. He thinks I'm out job searching all day instead of actually working, so he's fronting all the bills and I get to pocket all my hard earned cash."

"That's…that's one of the most disgusting things I've ever heard actually."

Grif just shrugged. "It's not a perfect system. But it's ours."

"I'm serious though, that is messed up. Like, if I had Simmons's number, I would let him in on that shit."

"Soy la vie, I guess."

"I don't think that's right…"

"Whatever. So…what is going on with you and Tex?"

"There is nothing going on!" Church cried out, his voice raising an octave.

"You know, you say that…but we're still driving to her place. The way I see it, you can let me in on it now, or I can go through some back channels. Either way, I get what I want."

"Why the hell do you even care? Is gossip really that important to you?"

"Dude, I'm a cab driver. Gossip is the only thing I have left."

Church sighed. Why, of all the taxis in all the world, did he have to get this one? "Look, nothing's going on. For real. In fact, I haven't even heard from her in…let's just say it's been a while."

Grif listened intently, although his eyes stayed focused on the road. "So what? She called and you come running?"

"I don't know, man," Church rubbed his hand through his hair. "What else am I supposed to do?"

"I love how you're not even dating anymore and you're still so f#*&ing whipped."

"I'm not."

"Are too."

"Not!"

"Admit it!"

"NO!" Church shouted sternly. "Gah! Give it a rest already!"

"Fine." Grif pouted, and a thick silence resumed.

Before they knew it, the car was parked in front of the apartment complex. Church stared out the window, debating internally on whether or not he should go inside. After a few minutes, Grif spoke up, "Can I give you some advice?"

"That's rhetorical, isn't it?"

"You dumped this girl for a reason, Church. Is going up there really worth it?"

...

"…I can't…I can't not go up there, Grif," he answered quietly. "I don't know why she called me here, and yeah, I'm pissed as hell that she ruined Halo night…but…if there's even a chance that she needs me, just as a friend, just as…as another freaking human being, then I need to be there."

"She ruined Halo night? What a bitch."

Church shook his head, not helping but smile. "How much do I owe you?"

"It's on the house. Or, you know, whatever."

"Thanks man."

"No problem. I'll wait out here for a few, just in case."

Church nodded another thank you and got out of the car. Gathering what little courage he had, he made his way up the old brick steps.

* * *

 **A/N:**

 **Hey there!**

 **Thanks for reading! This is my first attempt at an AU, so let me know what you guys think! Good or bad, all reviews are appreciated. :)**


	2. Move In Day

**Move In Day**

* * *

 _Six Years Ago..._

 _Grif._

"What do you mean there are no more rooms available? I set it up online like five weeks ago!"

"Sorry dude. Says here you turned your paperwork in late. So…request denied, amigo. Yeah, we'll have to set you up in Blood Gulch."

"What the hell is Blood Gulch?"

"Basement of the honors dorms."

"What?! You're sticking me in a basement?!"

"Chill, dude. Chill. It's not like you're gonna be alone down there."

"What do you mean by that? Sister, what does he mean by that?"

"Relax, bro. I'm sure there won't be any b-a-t—"

"Stop! I don't want to hear that!"

"It means you'll be rooming with all the other leftovers."

"Did this guy just call me a leftover?!"

"Calm down, Dex! Geez, you're making a scene."

"Everyone who couldn't get into regular dorms because they turned their paperwork in late. That's what I mean by 'leftovers.' Tell me, Mr. uh…Grif, would you rather be a 'Red' or a 'Blue?'"

"What is that supposed to mean?"

"Don't spaz out on me, man. The rooms are color coded, that's all. So do you want the red room or the blue room?"

"Uh…I don't know. What do you think, Sis?"

"Don't ask me. I'm colorblind."

"Hmph. Fine. Red."

"Good choice, man. Good choice. I'll just register that on my doohickey here…boop boop beep. Uh huh. Alright, man. You're all set on my end. I'll get you your map and key, and you can start settling in."

"…Thanks a bunch. I so appreciate this."

"No problemo. You need anything, just ask for Vic. I'll be here all day."

"Yeah, I'll be sure to do that."

* * *

 _Tucker._

"Nah girl, I'm going to school now…

"I mean exactly that…

"No…

"No, I came into some money recently…

"No, I didn't steal it!…

"You really want to know? My Uncle died. There. Is that a good enough reason for you?…

"You kidding me? You're the slut!…

"Why would I? I meant it…

"You know what? Screw you. Oh, that's right, I already did! Bow-chicka—Hello? Baby?

"F#*&. She hung up on me."

"What a surprise."

"Don't give me that look. Do I register for classes here or not?"

"Next counter down."

"Thanks."

* * *

 _Church._

"Hey!"

"What?"

"Is this the uh…Freelancer building?"

"Does it look like the Freelancer building?"

"…Um…I don't know how to answer that…"

"There's a sign, dumbass."

"Oh. Right…Hey, you go here?"

"No, I'm just here for the scenery. What do you think?"

"Geez, sorry. You don't have to be a bitch about it."

"Excuse me?"

"I said, you don't need to be a bitch about it. I'm just trying to find my dorm!"

"Hmph. You're telling me you're in the Freelancer Program?"

"Do I look like a f#*&ing nerd? No. I got stuck in f#*&ing 'Blood Gulch,' whatever the hell that is."

"Hahahaha!"

"What? What's so funny?"

"I'm guessing you'll find out soon enough."

"Wait! Where are you going? I didn't catch your name!"

"It's Tex."

"WELL DO YOU WANT TO KNOW MY NAME? Shit, she's gone."

* * *

 _Caboose._

"You know to call me if you have any problems, right Caboose?"

"Yes, Sheila."

"You've got your schedule?"

"Yes, Sheila."

"And you remembered your books?"

"Yes, Sheila."

"Are you sure you don't want another tour of the campus? You seemed a little distracted the first few times around."

"Nah. It's okay. I'm sure I'll find my way around eventubably."

"Okay, Caboose. Well, just remember to call if you have any issues. And you know where my office is, just in case."

"Don't worry about me, Sheila. I know exactly what I'm doing."

"Right…Keep my number handy anyways."

* * *

 _Simmons._

"So I said I wanted to be a mathlete, dad. A mathlete! And instead he enrolled me in woman's volleyball. God, it was awful."

"Sounds like it. So where are you headed?"

"Over to the Freelancer building, actually."

"No kidding? Me too! I didn't think I'd run into another Freelancer so soon."

"Oh…uh. Yeah, I'm not actually part of the program. I applied, but they lost my transcripts. So…I'm actually stuck in Blood Gulch."

"Oh. Sorry. But that's pretty cool. Maybe I'll still see you around sometime?"

"Yeah, for sure!"

"Cool. I'm North, by the way."

"Simmons."

"Nice to meet you, Simmons. Oh, hey, I see my buddy York over there. I'll catch you later?"

"Yeah, sure thing."

"Alright! See ya, man."

"See ya!...Yeah, it's cool. Go and hang out with your Freelancer buddy. Not like we were having a f#*&ing conversation or anything."

* * *

 _Donut & Doc._

"Oh heeeyyy, Doc! Look, I realize it's move-in day, and you probably have a ton of stuff to do; but I just noticed a lump on my—"

"I told you, Donut: Just because I'm going into pre-med doesn't mean I can diagnose your lumps."

"But…what if this one is serious?"

"Fine…where's it—OH MY GOD! What is that thing?!"

"Does it look bad?"

"Donut…You need to go to the hospital."

"…But we were gonna meet our new roomies. Can't I finish unpacking first?"

"If I was a hundred percent sure you weren't going to die in the next five minutes, then maybe. As it is…"

"Fine. But you're coming with me."

"What? Why?"

"For moral support!"

"…You need me to drive you there."

"Maybe you should go into psychiatry. It's like you're reading my mind!"

"I'll go get my keys."

* * *

 **A/N:**

 **Hey guys!  
Thanks so much for all the positive response you've given this! **

**\- Guest 1: Thanks! I appreciate it. And dude, nothing wrong with a little evil now and again.  
**

 **\- Guest 2: Fo sho.  
**

 **\- JayTheDoctor: Glad you liked it. Does this work for you?  
**

 **If you have any questions about this FanFic, check out my profile. (You might just find an answer.)  
**

 **As always, thanks for reading, and please feel free to review! (I'll be responding to reviews at the end of each chapter from now on.)  
**


	3. Dandy

**Dandy  
**

* * *

 _Wash's Journal, e_ _ntry #22_

So, the guys had been pressuring me for weeks to get one, and quite frankly, I was running out of ways to say no.

York would invite me over to his place just to show his off. "Look at all the stuff it does!" he'd tell me. And of course I'd just shrug. I know what they can do; I've been on the internet before.

As if that wasn't enough, North started getting in on it too. "Do you see it? Isn't it just amazing how adorable it is?"

Nope. Not interested. Although, yes, it was adorable. But come on! Who has time for that?

I was steadfast in my resolve. Peer pressure is just another from of bullying, I'd tell myself. You don't even need one!

Then Carolina had to go and get herself two of them, and all of my justifications went down the drain.

"It's too much work," I'd say.

"But Carolina has two! And she's twice as busy as you are!"

"I'm not good with them."

"Carolina thought the same thing…before she got _two of them_."

"I wouldn't even know what kind to get!"

"Why do you think Carolina got two?"

And on and on and on it went. Until the day they made it impossible for me to say no.

* * *

I had a pretty important presentation coming up in one of my business classes; the kind of thing that will make or break your whole five-year-plan. Honestly, I was a nervous wreck. I'd spend every waking moment going over what I was going to say, practicing my lines and quadruple checking my facts. Even when I finally fell asleep after hours of anxious worrying, I'd dream about me making a fool of myself in front of everyone that mattered.

When the presentation was two weeks away, York and North took me to the mall to help me pick out a suit to wear. (The nicest thing in my closet up to that point was the five-sizes-too-small tux I'd worn to junior prom.) I'd gotten most of my outfit together when we stopped by the food court to pick up some lunch.

"You know, I don't have anything against Chinese food, I just don't like Panda," York said as he sat down at our table. North and I were already halfway done with our lunches, and he'd only just finished getting through the Sbarro's line.

"We're not going to wait for you to eat all that," I told him, looking down at the two monster sized pizza slices.

"Eh, I wouldn't worry about it," North told me. "He'll probably be finished before we are. Pig."

"Slut."

I coughed. Banter always made me feel a little awkward, especially after rooming with Maine for so long.

"So, where are we headed next?" I asked. Of the three of us, North was the most fashion forward, so he'd been leading us around the majority of the day. (Although York had made us stop in the candle shop to 'check out all the cool smells.')

That's when I saw York shift in his seat a little and give North a knowing glance. The platinum blonde cleared his throat. "Well, there's a tie place over on the west end. It wouldn't hurt to check there."

"But I already got a tie."

York leaned in. "It never hurts to have too many ties. Besides, you might find one you like that's not bright yellow."

"What's wrong with yellow?"

He shook his head. "Nothing wrong with yellow."

I turned to North. "You said it matched!"

"Yellow and grey: very classy," he reassured me.

I frowned. Really, I thought it looked good.

"York is right though. Doesn't hurt to look."

The rest of our meal went on in silence as North and I finished our noodles and York downed his pizza. In the end, it was York who was up before either of us had finished, putting his tray away and chugging the last of his iced tea.

"You ready to go?" he asked, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.

"You really are fast," I told him through a mouthful of noodles.

"Jeez, would you swallow? (Call me a pig…)" he shook his head.

"Come on, Wash. We should hurry before they close."

I checked my phone. "It's only one o'clock. Why would they close that early?"

North glanced nervously at York who shrugged, "You never know. It is Sunday."

I glared suspiciously at them. What the hell were they up to? Either way, I abandoned what was left of my lunch and stood to join them.

Five minutes later, we were on the other end of the mall standing awkwardly in front of a Thai restaurant.

"I think somewhere down the line one of you got confused," I commented, looking up at the sign. But they weren't paying attention to what I was saying. No, they were nervously whispering back and forth. Turning to see what all the hubbub was about, that's when I saw it.

This 'tie place' just happened to be next door to the pet shop.

I slapped them both in the back of the head. "I DON'T WANT A CAT!"

"Oh, come on, Wash! You've seen how cute Theta is!" North protested. "How can you not want one?"

"He's only cute because he's a midget!"

"He's not a midget! He's a munchkin!"

"What the hell's the difference?"

"Well, munchkins have short little legs," North started. "I don't think there are midget cats. Plus, I feel like that term is kind of derogatory for a lot of things. Pygmy or dwarf—"

"It doesn't matter! I don't want a cat!"

That's when York cut in. "It doesn't have to be deformed. You could get a blue like Delta! He's super smart, and the way he chases lasers is so—"

Clearly hurt, North interrupted his rant, "Theta isn't deformed!"

"He's got midget legs."

"Munchkin. Munchkin legs!"

"Then what's up with his ears?!"

"He's a Scottish fold! They're supposed to be like that."

"BOTH OF YOU STOP!" I shouted. "Listen up, because I'm only going to say this once: I am going to go in there, I am going to look at all of the different animals, I will comment on their cuteness, I will possibly try to get them to play with my finger, I will enjoy myself, and then I will walk back outside, WITHOUT BUYING A F#*&ING CAT!"

" _Okay_ ," York mocked. "But that's what Carol—"

"I DON'T CARE WHAT CAROLINA SAID!" I shouted. Then I stormed into the pet shop. I was just ready to get this over with, and if this was the only way to do it, then so be it.

* * *

What York and North, and even Maine, had failed to realize, was that I love cats. Like, _love_ them. See, I used to have one growing up.

Dandy was the prettiest, most lovable kitty in the world. Even when I felt I had no one, I had her. She used to snuggle on my lap for hours, and on days when I was feeling particularly low, she'd paw at my legs until I went outside to play with her. And then we'd run around like idiots until she jumped back in my arms for more hugs.

I didn't want another cat. Not because I was too busy to take care of one, or because I didn't know how…but because I still missed Dandy. Losing her was one of the worst things that ever happened to me, and I didn't want to have to go through that pain again.

So yes. When I went into that shop, I was absolutely resolved not to get a cat.

* * *

I was staring at some parakeets when I overheard them behind me.

"What kind is that? It's huge!" York muttered.

"What's the label say?" North asked.

"Ragdoll? Is that even a thing?"

My heart skipped a beat. Dandy had been a ragdoll. Turning around, that's when I saw him…Epsilon.

His piercing blue eyes stared back in my cold grey ones, his lilac nose rising to sniff the air. Entranced by our immediate connection, I stumbled over to where my friends were standing and pushed York out of the way. I pressed my hand against the glass barrier, and he touched his dark paw to other side. He was nothing like Dandy…but he was perfect.

"Wash? Are you...crying?" North touched my shoulder.

"No!" I sniffed, rubbing my eyes. There must have been a lot of dust in the room.

York punched me in the shoulder excitedly. "Alright!" he grinned from ear to ear, going to fetch someone who worked there.

Half an hour later, I'd finished the paper work. He was so soft and cuddly; once he was in my arms, I knew I'd never let him go. That is...until he scratched me and ran away. We spent the next three hours chasing him through the mall.

Yeah, Epsilon is kind of an asshole.

But at least he waited until the day after my presentation to tear up my new suit. That's a positive, right?

* * *

 **A/N:**

 **Thanks for dropping by!**

 **Man, I'm having a blast writing these!**

 **\- JayTheDoctor: Thanks for the input! I added some labels above each section to try and make things clearer. Hopefully that helped. :)**

 **\- TheLetterMan: Well thanks! To answer: Yes, it's primarily going to be random stand alone stories. However, they do all take place in the same universe, and I have a sort of set timeline, so trends and storylines may unfold.**

 **\- Meirelle: You know it, dude.**

 **Catch you on the flipside, amigos!**


	4. Pretty Pink Ribbons

**Pretty Pink Ribbons  
**

* * *

 _Six years ago..._

He started zoning out when he heard the 'c' word. Even though he was sitting completely still, the way his heart was pounding in his chest, you'd think he was running a marathon.

While the doctor had an optimistic expression on his face and words like 'mild' and 'treatable' floated into his ears, all he could really think about were his packed bags back in Blood Gulch. This was supposed to be his first day of college, and the only new thing he'd learned was that his life might just be shorter than he'd originally planned.

Doc had told him to take comfort in the fact that it was _just_ skin cancer and not something really bad.

But that was ten hours ago, back when it'd _only_ been skin cancer.

Now the doctor was introducing words like 'invasive surgery' and 'chemotherapy.'

Donut absentmindedly looked up at the clock on the far wall. 4:40 PM. He'd already missed his first two classes. If things were going as planned, he'd be on his way to Spanish 101 right now. It was a shame, really. He'd taken four years of the language in high school, and was hoping to one day be fluent.

Oh well.

After a time, he realized the doctor had left, and a nurse had come in to ask him questions about his insurance. He tried to respond as best as he could, but quite frankly, his mind was more focused on other things.

The next thing he knew, he was being prepped for surgery to remove the 'skin growth.'

When he woke up, his parents were by his side. The hours that passed beyond that were mostly a drug-induced blur, although he distinctly remembered weeping into his mothers' arms.

The sun rose, two days after he'd shown Doc the lump on his side, and he stood up from the wheelchair his mom had pushed him out of the hospital in. He was being discharged until the insurance could approve the surgery to remove the tumor in his chest.

Following his mother out to their rental car, he saw a pink ribbon bumper sticker and started dry heaving.

It's funny how perspective can shift so drastically depending on circumstance.

No, it'd be safe to say Donut would never see the color pink the same way again.

* * *

 **A/N:**

 **Sorry for the short (depressing) chapter.**

 **To keep this brief I'm gonna hold off on responding to reviews until next time.**

 **As always, thanks for reading! :)  
**


	5. If You Called

**If You Called...**

* * *

No one really wanted to admit it, but with Church gone the party was over. After half an hour of vengefully murdering his avatar in Halo, Wash reluctantly called it quits. "It's just not as fun after the first twenty times." Even Tucker shrugged in agreement, and Caboose nodded along sadly.

"Do you think he's coming back this time?" he asked, his words coated in fear.

Tucker pushed himself further into his couch with indignation.

"He came back last time, didn't he?" Wash tried to sound reassuring. "I'm sure it'll be fine."

Tucker scoffed angrily. "You of all people should not be defending him."

"I'm not defending anyone," Wash retorted flatly. "But Church is like a bad penny; he always comes back around."

Caboose perked up a little at that, but a heavy tension still hung around the remaining blues.

Another moment of silence passed before Wash asked Caboose if he still needed that ride home. The taller man just shook his head and raised his phone to indicate he was already calling Sheila. With nothing else to do, they listened half heartedly to the conversation, as Caboose's phone was easily at the loudest setting.

"No, Caboose," they heard Sheila's soft voice carry over the receiver, "I don't think bringing Freckles would be a good idea this late."

"But he loves car rides!" Caboose protested.

Tucker gave Wash a worried look, and the blonde coughed to get Caboose's attention. "Freckles is probably sleeping right now, buddy. You don't want to wake him up, do you?"

Caboose frowned, but was unable to argue with that logic. Sighing, he gave up trying to convince Sheila. After she agreed to pick him up, he hung up the phone. "Sheila's coming to get me."

Tucker nodded, and then stood with a groan. Picking up paper plates as he went, he made his way into the kitchen. "Dude, you staying the night?" he called out to Wash.

"How much beer do we have left?" came the response.

Tucker chuckled, before looking in the fridge. "Two packs," he called out.

"Grab me one on your way back."

"I'll take that as a yes, then," he muttered, grabbing the beer. "Caboose, you want another lemonade before you go?"

"Yes please!"

Making his way back to the couch with the drinks, he handed them out before plopping back down next to Wash.

"What's up with the lemonades anyhow?" Wash asked conversationally after chugging half a bottle.

"Junior was in town for the weekend," Tucker explained.

Wash frowned. "Did she at least call you first this time?"

"Two hour heads up," he replied as if he were impressed, although the affectation was obvious. "Just enough time to stock the kitchen a little."

"That's rough," the ex-freelancer said sympathetically.

Tucker merely shrugged. "It's better than not being able to see him at all, I guess."

The silence permeated them once again, all the way up until they heard the knock at the door.

Caboose shot up excitedly and bounded over to the entryway. "Sheila!" He wrapped his arms around her and squeezed.

"Hello, Caboose," she replied. And when he released her, she gave a nod to the others. Turning back to her ward, she looked him up and down. "Are you ready to go?"

He thought for a moment before nodding. Looking back at the other blues, he waved pleasantly to Wash, "Goodbye, Mr. Washingtub." Then, in a much darker voice, "Bye, Tucker."

A minute later he was gone, and the tension eased considerably.

"You know, you shouldn't—" Wash started after they'd settled once and for all on the couch.

Tucker interrupted him with a melodramatic groan. "Dude, I do not want to do this tonight. Alright? Can we just not?"

Wash finished his bottle before grabbing another.

This frustrated Tucker even more. "So you're gonna drink all my beer? That's low. Even for you."

"You're the one who doesn't want to talk about it," the ex-Freelancer said pointedly.

"I just don't get it. How many times is he gonna drop everything for that bitch? All she ever does is leave him, and then we have to pick up the pieces of his emotionally constipated ass."

"It's completely irrational," Wash agreed, taking another swig.

"Why can't he just leave it alone? I mean, even if she stayed, like, actually fucking stayed for him, then what? It's not like that's any sort of healthy relationship."

"'Cause you're the expert on that topic," Wash sneered.

"Hey, fuck you. I at least know it when I see it, unlike _some people_."

"Oh boy, you really burned me with that one. I'll be in recovery for weeks."

Tucker huffed and pouted into his beer. "You're a sarcastic piece of shit, you know that?"

Wash smiled and drained the rest of his bottle.

* * *

Two hours later, they were nearly passed out on the couch. After they'd run out of beer they had pulled out Tucker's 'emergency whiskey' and downed half the bottle. Tucker laid on his stomach with one arm dangling off the side of the couch, and his feet rested on Wash's lap. The other man was leaning back in as far as the cushions would allow, staring up at a crack in the ceiling.

"You think it's like Doctor Who?" he slurred almost to himself.

Tucker didn't open his eyes. "What's like Doctor Who?"

"The crack. It's gonna break the fucking universe or something."

"What crack?"

"That one."

"Which one."

"Up there."

"Where?"

"On the ceiling."

"My ceiling?"

"No, the other ceiling. Of course your ceiling!"

"There's a crack?"

Wash sighed desperately.

"You're such a nerd."

"I'd like to think I'm a well-rounded indavid-individual. With varied intereshts."

Tucker chuckled, then hiccoughed. "We're so fucking wasted right now."

"Pfft. Speak for yourselff."

"I can't believe we got drunk over someone else's fucking relationship."

"Maybe that's why you got drunk…"

"Yeah? Why'd you do it then?"

"'Cuz I fucking felt like it."

"Big, tough Mr. Washington doesn't need a reason to drink, 'cause he's a man's man."

"Damn straight."

Both men were on the verge of falling asleep. The single lamp in the living room gave off a dim, warm light, and the apartment was filled with nothing but the ambient noises of a rattling ceiling fan and dull tv static. They were filled with warmth from the alcohol and each others' company, nodding off as their breathing fell in and out of sync.

"Hey Wash?" Tucker muttered, half drooling into the couch seat.

"Yeah?" Wash asked, having long since closed his eyes.

"…You think I'll ever have what Church has?"

"Incurable ass-hole-ia?"

"No. The Tex thing. The thing where it doesn't matter what you're doing, they call and you come running, despite all other shit."

"So…love, basically."

"…Yeah."

"You've got Junior."

"But that's not…he's my kid. It's not the same."

"Junior called you right now, said he was in trouble? You'd be out the fucking door. All that unconditional love bullshit."

"But he's my kid. I'm talking about—"

"I know what you're talking about. And I'm telling you it's enough. That kid loves you right back, and that's way fucking better than what Church has."

"You're right…I guess."

"Tucker, the closest thing I ever had to love like that was a fucking cat. And he jumped out a fucking window. You've got a kid that adores you. Enjoy that shit for what it's worth."

"That…I—thanks. I needed that, dude."

"Damn straight."

They'd just settled back into the blissful quiet when Tucker spoke again, even softer this time, "…Wash?"

"Yeah?"

"If…if you called…I would come."

"…Tucker…"

"I know how fucking gay that sounds, but I mean it, dude. You're my best friend and I got your back."

"Yeah…yeah, me too."

"No homo?"

"Yeah, Tucker. No homo."

"Just bros before hoes and all that shit."

"For sure, man."

"Well…g'night."

"The sun's coming up…"

"'Night, Wash."

*Sigh,* "Goodnight, Tucker."

* * *

 **A/N:**

 **So the last chapter was really freaking depressing and then I left it off for over a month. So, sorry about that.**

 **We're back with a sequel to Chapter 1 and a little bromance sesh between my favorite blues!**

 **I know it's been forever, but my responses to the last reviews:**

 **\- Meirelle: I totally agree about Carolina being a dog person. She'd probably have some like crazy-well-trained german shepherds or something that would be super adorable.**

 **\- TheLetterMan: Thanks so much! And sorry it's taken so long to update. (I'll try to be better in the future.)**

 **\- cheez-whiz-person: That means a lot to me. I'm so glad that you enjoy them!**

 **As always, thanks so much for taking the time to read, and feel free to review! Your guys' feedback is probably my biggest motivating factor in writing. Good or bad, I love to know what you all think!**

 **And one last note: Check out the latest chapter of The Freelancer Collaboration's Phase Two! I'm not gonna name names or anything, but they got a new writer for Penn, and I've heard they totally killed it or something like that.**

 **Seriously, check out Phases One and Two if you haven't already. Hands down best RvB fics ever, of all time. :)**


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